[center][h1]Exiles[/h1][/center]


	Aron looked to the empty seat next to him, sighing as he pulled into the parking lot of a gas station. He hated that he had to do this, but Exiles couldn't find jobs anymore. Because of the Screen. It ruined their lives. Now the world was at war, Exiles v. Humans. Aron didn't consider him part of either side, but he would automatically be hunted as an Exile. He pulled on his ski mask and ran into the gas station with his backpack, his right arm angled forwards. He burst in, to a look of surprise on the store clerk. "I don't want your money. I just want water and food." The clerk had a wide-eyed look, but leaned into Aron. "[b]Here's a secret, kid.[/b]" A tiny flame spouted from his fingertip. "[b]You're not alone. Take what you need, I'll be out soon anyways.[/b]" Aron smiled and began looting the tiny shelves of the store. Perhaps the peaceful Exiles would pull through. "Thank you, sir." The clerk grinned. "[b]Don't mention it, kid. Us Exiles gotta stick together.[/b]"

	Aron pleaded with his father. "Dad, come on. I don't have to go alone." His father shook his head. "[b]It's too late for me, Aron. People are suspicious, and they'll be coming. So go. Go away from here, away from the fighting. Keep running, son. Keep running until you can finally stop to appreciate how far you've come.[/b]" Aron could hear the door splintering. "[b]Run.[/b]" His father said, even as his mouth transformed into snout, his feet into paws. "[b]GO![/b]" His father roared. "[b]Don't come back[/b]." He said, and Aron left, looking back at the only place he had ever known, the only home he had ever known, even as he drove away from it. Even as he said goodbye.